Waiting for the Unexpected
by unfathomablybash
Summary: A retelling of the first few months of Mary, Queen of Scots' life at French Court. The story follows Mary as she forms new friendships, rekindles old ones, and starts on her ever-elusive search for love.


A/N: So this is my first time publishing anything like this! I'm so excited to hear any feedback/review/criticism that you all might have for me. So far, I've stayed pretty close to the TV show itself, with a few changes, but I have a lot of my own storylines coming up in the future. Please, please, please give me feedback here or on my tumblr, unfathomablybash. Thank you all for reading and hope you enjoy it! xoxo

* * *

With a deep breath and a quick prayer, Mary stepped out of the gilded carriage. The bitter autumn wind whipped her face and messed with her carefully-fixed braids. She shivered as she felt the cold beneath her never-ending layers of thick dresses and cloaks. Hastily, she scanned the scene before her. The crowd was much bigger than she had expected. There were hundreds of people of all shapes and sizes, wearing every colour under the sun. She saw light glinting off of silver, gold and diamonds; she saw perfectly-crafted blonde ringlets and pin-straight brown locks. Mary sighed. _I'm certainly not in the convent any more_.

Mary covered her eyes and tried to make out the four figures making their way towards her. With a gasp of delight, she realised they were her four best childhood friends – the girls who had stayed with her in Scotland, and who came with her to France until she was sent away to the convent for her safety. She ran to greet them, hugging each tightly in turn as they all squealed and giggled. There was Aylee: fair and pretty, the shy one of the group but also the sweetest. Greer was the ambitious one – after all, she was the only one without a title. Ironically, she was also the romantic. She constantly dreamed of a prince who would come and sweep her off of her feet. Next was Lola, the smart, calculated, calm lady, dedicated to her family and to her friends. And then there was Kenna, the hot-headed, passionate one. Mary suddenly felt so much more comfortable knowing that she had her four best friends to look out for her; a few comfortable faces in a sea of unfamiliarity.

The loud fanfare of a trumpet burst through the ladies' excited chatter. Mary immediately looked towards the source of the noise – she knew that it signalled the royal family of France, and with it, her potential fiancé Francis. Mary wasn't sure what to think of her Francis. After all, she was a girl who hopelessly craved love, but she knew that she had to marry for her country. An alliance with France would be good for Scotland, but was she willing to sacrifice her chance at love? As it was, Mary thought of Francis with a great deal of apprehension.

The trumpet sounded again, and a flurry of cloaks parted to see a tall, strong-looking, middle-aged man that Mary quickly realised to be King Henry. At his side strode a dark-haired beauty, presumably Diane de Poitiers, Henry's mistress. From behind them, two young men emerged; one tall and dark, the other shorter and blonde. Unsure of their identities, Mary found her eyes locked on the taller. She took in his broad shoulders and easy gait, coupled with a slight swagger. Her gaze travelled up his body until she reached his eyes – which were locked on her own. Mary blushed, embarrassed to have been seen staring so unabashedly at a complete stranger, even if he was unusually intriguing. The stranger smirked, and gave Mary a quick wink. Now blushing furiously, Mary averted her gaze. The stranger had stopped, but the other young man made his way directly towards Mary. Politely, she smiled as he approached.

"_Bonjour_! You must be Mary… I'm Francis. I don't suppose you remember me? We used to play together as children…" the blonde man said, trailing off as he waited for a response. _Of course, he must be Francis_. Mary silently kicked herself for not knowing immediately.

"Of course I remember you!" Mary laughed, "We played together often if I recall correctly." Mary gave Francis her hand, and he kissed it gently.

"I hope to get to know you better now that you have returned to court. I suppose that you will be attending the ball we are hosting tomorrow night? Absolutely everyone will be there." Mary smiled excitedly at the prospect. Convents certainly didn't have enough social events for her taste.

"I should be delighted to attend." Pleased with her response, Francis turned and walked towards his father, who was beginning to make his way back into the castle. As she watched him go, Mary saw the tall, dark, stranger clap Francis on the back.

"Who's the other man, the one next to Francis?" Mary asked her ladies.

"I'm not sure, but he's gorgeous!" replied Kenna.

"Kenna! Mary shouldn't be looking at anyone but Francis!" Aylee interrupted as Kenna rolled her eyes. Mary smiled at their usual banter. While strange, perhaps being back at French court would prove to be a great deal more interesting than she expected.

* * *

A few hours later, Mary sat in her room, staring out of the window and thinking about her future. She was the queen of Scotland. Her life was one task after another, a never-ending cycle of responsibility that left her feeling trapped. She had to please so many people: her mother, the French who welcomed her so kindly, her ladies, her subjects, and herself. Mary seemed to constantly push herself down the list of people to care for. She would worry about others, without realising that she was hurting herself with the added burdens. Mary spent so much time within her own head, thinking and analysing and planning for any situation that could possibly arise. And much of that anxiety and worry centred on her impending marriage.

Mary wasn't sure yet what she thought of Francis. He was handsome of course, and polite, but as of yet there was no mystery or spark. While she refused to admit it to herself, she wanted danger and mystery, she wanted excitement. Perhaps it was the result of a sheltered life, but Mary knew that she could never settle for convention and monotony. She hoped that Francis was simply nervous, and their lack of chemistry was due to the pressure placed upon them to immediately find a connection. Yet try as she might, Mary could not erase the image of deep green eyes and a sarcastic wink. Somehow, it was not Francis, but the man who must be his friend, that Mary found intriguing.

"MARY!" A yell came from the entrance to her chamber. With a start, Mary turned around to see Kenna racing into her room, an energetic smile upon her face. The other ladies trailed behind, looking considerably more out of breath. "We found out who the stranger was! He's Sebastian de Poitiers, the king's bastard! The favoured son of Diane de Poitiers! Kenna exclaimed, looking exceedingly pleased with herself. Mary, on the other hand, sighed. Surprisingly, she felt disappointed. Nothing could happen between her and a bastard son, favoured or not. _Not that anything could have happened anyway_, Mary chastised herself.

Yet Mary's reaction didn't seem to be what Kenna was interested in. She continued babbling on about how a bastard son would be a perfect catch for any of the ladies – after all, marrying royalty, whether legitimate or not, was definitely a good catch for someone in their position. Mary couldn't help but roll her eyes at Kenna's unwavering enthusiasm for all things men-related. Having had enough, Mary interrupted good-naturedly,

"Will you ladies help me get ready? I must go and speak with the dressmakers about tomorrow's ball. I need something to wear, and I doubt that anything I brought from the convent will suffice!" Positively bursting with energy and excitement, Mary's ladies quickly helped her into a dove grey gown with lilac trim. It cinched her at the waist and flowed gracefully to the ground, and it was a personal favourite of Mary's. As she turned to leave, Mary heard Aylee say quietly to Lola,

"I think she'll be happy here."

"As will we all," Lola replied.

Mary only hoped that she was right.


End file.
